


Nemesis

by pink_shoes



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Brief mention of attempted noncon, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pink_shoes/pseuds/pink_shoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red Alert is captured by the Decepticons and taken to Cybertron, only to be rescued by none other than his personal nemesis. But is Inferno's girlfriend really as bad as Red Alert has randomly decided she is? Probably not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

> Okay not gonna lie, I mostly wrote this because I'm tired of fics vilifying Firestar just because she gets in the way of Red Alert/Inferno, but I also genuinely love them as a triad. 
> 
> As I said in the tags, this fic has a brief mention of attempted noncon. There's also the aftermath of an interrogation scene, and an in-depth exploration of Red Alert's anxiety disorder. If any of these things make you uncomfortable, you probably shouldn't read this.

As Red Alert lay on the floor of the cell, he supposed he was lucky. He might be locked up in Shockwave’s base on Cybertron, light-years away from the rest of his faction, but at least Shockwave did not have any brutal interrogators in his service. 

Red Alert pulled his arm close to examine what was left of his fingers. When Soundwave had been unable to hack his processors, Red Alert had been turned over to Vortex instead. Fortunately, before Red Alert could break, Megatron had ordered him sent to Cybertron in order to thwart the rescue attempts that were surely coming. Prime would not leave his security director in enemy hands for long.

There wasn’t much for Red Alert’s delicate sensors to detect here in Shockwave’s base, which was fortunate since an excess of activity would probably have set off another panic attack. He could hear a few cleaning drones wheeling around a few floors below, and occasionally the chattering of seekers in Vosian. 

There was a message in his HUD that read “New Security Network Detected”, followed by a prompt to connect. Red Alert dismissed it. There was no way he would be able to interface with Shockwave’s systems, especially remotely. 

Pressing his audial to the cold floor again, he could pick up heavy, measured footsteps coming down the hall. Only a few klicks later, the door slammed open, and Red Alert flinched away from the light that flooded in. One of his optics was shattered and leaking, but he still recognized Shockwave’s silhouette. 

The bars on his cell deactivated, and Shockwave grabbed him by the arm. A small cry escaped his vocalizer as he was jerked to his feet, and he felt his sensors spark in panic. Though Shockwave was no more a soldier than Red Alert was, he still had a military frame, and Red Alert knew he had no chance against the Decepticon scientist. 

Red Alert was brought into a room that looked quite like a laboratory. In the middle of it was an interrogation table, complete with clamps for arms and legs. Red Alert tried to pull away, but Shockwave forced him to the table with easy strength, snapping his arms into the clamps, then going around to the other side to lock in his legs as well. 

Red Alert watched as Shockwave walked to one of the computer terminals and began to type. Red Alert stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about his pounding spark and the panic rising up in his throat. He tried to think of Inferno, waiting safe at home, probably worrying…

Inferno.

Tears sprang to his optics and he turned his helm away. 

After a few moments, Shockwave returned to Red Alert’s side. If he noticed the tears, he said nothing. In his good hand was a set of hardline cables. He plugged one end into the medical access port on Red Alert’s neck. 

“Don’t bother.” Red Alert hated the way his vocalizer trembled. “Soundwave couldn’t hack me, and neither can you.”

“We shall see,” replied Shockwave, and plugged the other end into his own frame.

Red Alert’s glitch flared online at the intrusion, sending blinding waves of fiery-hot pain straight to his processor. His vision went white as his back arched against the interrogation table, and he screamed in pain and fear. He could smell something melting, something smoking—

Shockwave pulled the cable back out, but Red Alert continued to scream, sensor horns sending off dangerous sparks. Faintly, he could feel the bonds cutting into his wrists and ankle-joints, but he could not stop his frame from writhing in agony. Warning messages were popping up behind his optics, urging him to either find a medic or shut himself down before he sustained serious damage. But Red Alert was so lost in his pain that he barely noticed them. 

Eventually—he could not say how much time had passed, he never could when this happened—Red Alert felt his mind return. His horns still sparked occasionally, sending little pulses of electricity coursing down his frame but, for the most part, he’d regained control of himself. Taking in his surroundings once more, he gave a little start when he realized Shockwave was staring down at him impassively, a medical scanner in his good hand. 

“So you cannot be hacked,” said Shockwave at last, staring down at the scanner’s screen. “Most curious. I suppose I must resort to…less refined measures.” The words sent a new shower of sparks spraying from Red Alert’s helm. 

“No, no, no—” whimpered Red Alert. He’d been so near to breaking when Megatron had taken him away from Vortex. Vortex, who had stroked his faceplates like a lover might and then taken a blade to Red Alert’s delicate servos. Vortex, who had whispered his intentions into Red Alert’s audials, and gotten as far as removing Red Alert’s panel before Soundwave stepped in and very angrily put a stop to it. 

Red Alert shuddered at the memory. Even now, he could feel Vortex’s icy servos on his legs, feeling for the manual-release latches that would give him access to what he wanted. Even the electro-whip shattering through his windshield glass afterward had been preferable to that—or had the whip come beforehand? He wasn’t sure. The memories were distorted, almost hazy. 

Red Alert felt that familiar old paranoia rising up in his chest, quickly followed by a host of improbable scenarios that presented themselves as absolute truth. What if he had already been hacked by the Decepticons, but they’d wiped the memories afterwards? What if he’d told Autobot secrets to Vortex when he was on Earth, during the initial interrogation, and he just didn’t remember? 

What if Vortex had succeeded in forcing an interface, and Red Alert had blocked out the memory?

Red Alert’s frame arched against the table again. A trickle of energon from his optic slipped down and caught on his lipplate. Shockwave pressed his servo flat against Red Alert’s chassis to hold him down. “You will desist,” he ordered. When Red Alert finally went still, he returned to his terminal and began typing again. 

Red Alert tried to see if he could read what Shockwave was writing about him. But with his shattered optic, he could only make out a few blurry words in Kaonite, none of them useful. After about a breem, Shockwave returned with a laser scalpel in his good servo. 

Somewhere very nearby, he could hear the rumble of an engine. Seeker? No. A grounder. Transport-class. Someone was…driving? Indoors?

“We will begin with the damaged optic, I think.” Shockwave spoke clinically, as if describing something mundane. Red Alert’s vision filled with the silver edge of the blade. “Unless, of course…you wish to cooperate with me.”

But before Red Alert could come up with a suitable reply, there was an enormous crash, a shout of surprise from Shockwave, and then finally the painful sound of metal tearing. Light flooded into the room from the hallway, making Red Alert shutter his optics. 

A new voice yelled something, but Red Alert was too panicked to focus on it. He heard Shockwave shout something back in anger, but couldn’t move his helm enough to see what was happening. There was the sound of something striking something else, followed by a thud, and then someone new was standing in front of him, looking down at him with hope and fear on her faceplates. 

“Red Alert!” cried Firestar. 

“Oh, _you_ ,” Red Alert murmured before he finally slipped into emergency stasis lock.

* * *

It was quiet when Red Alert finally came back online. He could hear the whirring of fans, soft beeping, and gentle pedesteps. Red Alert onlined his optics, and found himself looking up at a bright orange ceiling, though there was no way he could be in the Ark—the smell was all wrong. He moved to sit upright on the medical cot, but found that a single cloth strap across his chest prevented him from doing so. A spasm of panic cut across his processor, but then died away as he realized that his arms were still free, and unclipping the strap would be easy to accomplish.

“Oh, he’s awake,” said a new voice. Two Autobots were hurrying over towards him, both femme frames, one orange and one green, their energy signatures swirling together in their closeness. Red Alert looked at them blearily.

“Did I tell him anything?” Red Alert murmured. 

“What?” asked the orange one. 

“My name is Greenlight, and this is Lancer,” interrupted the other. “I’m the medic here. More or less. Are you in any pain?”

Red Alert glanced down at his frame. His damaged optic and the shattered windshield glass had apparently been replaced, and all the cuts on his chassis repaired. His servos were still missing several key components but fresh weld lines had replaced jagged edges and energon splatters, and he could no longer feel the pain. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have the parts to fix your servos right now,” explained Greenlight. “I shut off your pain receptors, though.”

“What happened?” asked Red Alert. He remembered Firestar breaking into the interrogation room and doing something to Shockwave, but had no memory of the trip from Darkmount to the hidden Autobot base.

“Firestar brought you in.” Greenlight frowned deeply, as if she disapproved of Red Alert’s rescue. “There’s Firestar for you.”

“Not that we’re not glad you’re here, of course!” Lancer gave Greenlight a jab with her elbow. “We were just…surprised!”

Red Alert had no idea what she was talking about, but he was too exhausted to ask any questions. Instead, he rested back on the berth and checked his systems. Everything appeared to be in working order.

“As soon as Elita gives us clearance to send a message, we’ll tell Prime that you’ve been rescued,” Greenlight said. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to ship you back to the Ark soon. I’m sure Ratchet has replacement servos for you. In the meantime, just rest.”

Red Alert did not want to rest—especially in an unfamiliar base surrounded by unfamiliar mechs—but then he noticed the message in his HUD again. “New Security Network Detected.” He’d dismissed that, though, hadn’t he? Back in Shockwave’s base?

But then Red Alert realized that this network he was picking up now wasn’t Shockwave’s. It was Elita’s. He was in an Autobot base again, and he could connect with their systems! Immediately, Red Alert allowed the connection. His clearance was automatically accepted, and data flooded his processor. 

Red Alert always felt most comfortable when he was fully engaged with a security system, whether it was on a ship, in a base, or even just a human building (the humans’ cameras sometimes tried to fight him, but Red Alert could always coax them into being cooperative). 

This base was not large at all, but Red Alert supposed it did not have to be—he was only picking up a handful of lifesigns. There were exactly fifteen cameras in the network (a stark contrast to the thousands scattered across the Ark) and most of the rooms they monitored were pitch-black, left dark for the purpose of saving energy. 

He located Elita One first, working quietly in a small office and drawing up something that looked like battle plans on a large datapad. Next was Chromia—in the armory, naturally, making repairs on a gun that would have made Ironhide seethe with jealousy. 

In the rec room, he found Moonracer. She had apparently gone out adventuring into the ruins at some point, because she was currently entertaining herself by sorting through a massive sack of miscellaneous…things, all of which looked like rubbish in Red Alert’s optics. But every so often, the little Autobot would smile brightly and place something in a metal box. Red Alert adjusted the angle of the camera to see inside it, but it only appeared to hold more junk. 

Last was Firestar. Firestar. His nemesis. Red Alert tried to remain calm as he cycled through the remaining security cameras, but gave a little jump nevertheless when he spotted her at last in the washracks. She was scrubbing at a particularly stubborn mark on her chassis, but seemed otherwise untroubled. 

Red Alert felt his lipplates press together. 

_Why couldn’t you just be dead?_

Inferno had assumed Firestar was dead when their bond broke, just as Ironhide had with Chromia and Optimus had with Elita. It was only recently that they’d learned otherwise. 

Red Alert remembered when the excited party of Autobots had returned to the Ark. He’d been prepared to scream at Inferno for sneaking out after Prime without any explanation—he had a speech prepared and everything—but before he could utter a word, Inferno had picked him up and pressed a giant kiss to Red Alert’s lipplates.

“She’s alive, Red,” Inferno had whispered to him. “Firestar’s alive.” And then he’d hugged Red Alert to his chassis, apparently blind to the horrified expression on his partner’s faceplates. 

It hadn’t taken long at all for the rumors to start up after that, and Sideswipe had even had the audacity to ask Red Alert if he and Inferno were breaking up. Red Alert had screamed at him to get out of the security center, but in truth, it was only because he had no other answer to give. Inferno was clearly thrilled that Firestar was alive, but he wasn’t acting any differently towards Red Alert either. The one time that Red Alert had mustered up the courage to broach the subject, Inferno had just smiled and said not to worry about it. 

Still, Red Alert suspected he knew what was going on—Inferno was keeping him until the end of the war. Once it was over, Inferno would go back to Firestar. But in the meantime, why should he throw Red Alert away? He’d be without an interfacing partner otherwise. 

_I need him more than you,_ Red Alert thought at the image of Firestar. Even her frame was powerful—she was the largest on the team, larger than Chromia, and almost as tall as Inferno. He imagined the two fighting fires together, as they had before the war—no doubt they’d been an efficient pair. 

Still, he wondered if she was jealous of him, even a little. Inferno was his for the foreseeable future, after all. But then, perhaps she wasn’t—she’d brought him safely back to the base. If she’d truly hated him, she could have left him behind and told everyone that she’d been unable to find him. 

Red Alert realized that his thoughts had become unnaturally morbid, even for him. Nemesis or not, Firestar was still an Autobot, and probably wouldn’t ever leave a mech behind to be tortured or executed. Inferno wouldn’t love her if she was horrible, would he?

Red Alert disconnected from the security feed and looked around the medbay. Lancer was gone, but Greenlight was still around, cleaning her tools and organizing supplies in the exact way that Ratchet often did. There was something comforting about it. 

With nothing to do and nobody to talk to, Red Alert powered down for recharge.

* * *

Elita One was the first of his visitors. When she entered the medbay, Red Alert tried to stand and salute, but Greenlight yelled at him to lie back down.

“I have informed the Autobots on Earth of your…rescue.” There was an odd pause before the word, as if Elita was only using it for lack of something better. “They expressed relief that you are safe. I know you are probably eager to get back to them.”

“I am,” said Red Alert, trying not to think about how the Ark was probably crawling with cassetticons by now. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t know the next time the spacebridge will be available to us,” Elita continued. “Therefore, the command staff on Earth has dispatched a shuttle to bring you back. He should be here within two solar cycles.”

Red Alert tensed a little—she could only be speaking of Skyfire. Prime had never listened to his suspicions, _nobody_ had ever listened to his suspicions about the shuttle, not even when the mech returned from long solo flights with an irregular energy field and delicate traces of residue on his lipplates.

Still, for the sake of getting back to the Ark, and to Inferno, Red Alert would endure his presence.

“In the meantime, try not to exert yourself,” concluded Elita. “Of course, you are free to roam the base since Greenlight says your condition is stable, but I would hate for you to sustain more injuries.”

“I understand, Commander,” said Red Alert. “If I may, I was thinking of checking on camera three, in the generator room. Something appears to be obstructing the lens, no matter how I tilt it.”

“Oh!” Elita looked legitimately surprised. “Well, we don’t really use the cameras that much—” she stopped suddenly, as Red Alert had just given a horrified gasp, “—but I suppose there’s no harm in you taking a look.”

So after she had gone, Red Alert borrowed a basic toolkit from Greenlight since the Decepticons had emptied out his subspace pocket and set out in search of the faulty camera. It didn’t take long for him to find the generator room, since being connected with the security network gave him almost the entire layout of the base. 

The generator room was small, with the generator itself sitting quietly in the center but not much else. The ceiling was high, but above a certain height, it became nothing but a mess of metal tubes, pipes, and wires. Red Alert flinched at the sight. Did Elita care nothing for personal safety? The whole thing could explode at a moment’s notice! If a Decepticon spy broke in, this would be the ideal location to plant a bomb! 

There was a small walkway that began on the floor but gradually ascended. Red Alert followed it up into the mess, pushing obstructions out of the way as he progressed. 

“Oh, there you are!” called a voice. Red Alert screamed and almost lost his balance. He’d been so occupied by his task that he hadn’t even noticed someone entering the room. 

“Primus, I’m sorry, are you alright?” Pale yellow faceplates were looking up at him. Red Alert gazed down at Firestar in shock, still clinging to the wires, and tried to get his sparkbeat back down to normal. He was safe. He was in an Autobot base. Firestar wasn’t a Decepticon, she was just his personal nemesis. 

“I’m so sorry,” Firestar said. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to talk.”

“Why?” Red Alert turned his attention back to his work. The walkway had ended, but the ceiling—and the camera—were still out of reach. Red Alert tested one of the thicker pipes—it seemed as though it would hold his weight. 

“I’m glad your injuries weren’t too terrible,” Firestar sounded genuine, but Red Alert was still wary. “Greenlight’s a pretty good medic. She was never formally trained, she’s actually a scientist, but she’s got vorns of experience, so…”

Red Alert climbed out onto the pipe. Fortunately, it didn’t come crashing down, and so he began to work his way higher into the ceiling. 

“Hey, is that safe?” asked Firestar. “Some of those pipes are really old.”

Red Alert gnashed his dentae together. “Why are you doing this?”

Firestar’s optics brightened in surprise. “Doing what?” 

“I know you hate me, you don’t have to pretend!”

“Hate you?” Firestar’s optics were almost white now. “Why in the world would I hate you?”

Red Alert said nothing, only continued to climb higher through the mess of piping. He could see the camera now, but when he tried to access the feed, the only thing that came up was orange—as usual. 

“Hey…” began Firestar. There was an almost imperceptible sound as she rested her servos on her hips. “Are you sure you’re alright? If you fall—”

“I’m fine,” said Red Alert, edging closer to the camera. Now he could see the issue. The lens was being blocked by a fallen section of orange pipe. Being careful not to damage his servos even more, Red Alert pulled at it cautiously, and there was a gentle _snap_ , followed by the length of metal coming free. Red Alert tried to determine its purpose, but his olfactory sensors were only picking up rust. If this pipe had ever transported something, it had been a very, very long time ago. 

“If you fall, Inferno will kill me,” Firestar called. Red Alert could no longer see her, he’d officially gone too far up, but her strong voice carried well, and he could still hear her pedesteps as she paced beneath him anxiously. “Red Alert?”

“I’m almost finished,” Red Alert reported. “I’ve got a loose pipe up here, and I can’t climb down with it. Can you catch it for me?”

“Where are you?”

“Walk two meters north,” instructed Red Alert. He waited for her heavy steps to come to a stop, then continued. “Now, five meters east…alright. I’m going to lower it down now. Try to watch your helm.” Red Alert pressed himself as near to the platform as he could get as he fed the broken pipe down through the maze of tubes and wires. “Can you see it?”

“I…think so?” 

“I’m going to let go now.” Not that he had much say in the matter—his mutilated digits couldn’t hold on to the pipe any longer. “Try to catch it.” 

He let go, and there was a series of clangs, followed by a short, sharp yelp from Firestar. Red Alert scrambled back down through the mess and back onto the platform so that he could see her. 

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Firestar looked no worse for the wear, just a little shocked. She’d apparently managed to catch the pipe, and was still clutching it to her chassis as if she was afraid to move just yet. 

Red Alert checked the camera feed. Now, instead of showing solid orange, it showed the maze of parts that he had just climbed through. Still useless, then. At least the endeavor had killed some time. 

Firestar carefully placed the pipe against the wall. “Red Alert, I—I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you!” Red Alert found himself desperately wishing he was back up in the ceiling. 

Firestar looked stunned. “Why not?”

“You know why!”

“No I don’t!” She was a good liar, he would give her that. He wondered if she’d trained under Jazz. “Red Alert, please, we haven’t even had a conversation yet, you can’t hate me already!”

“Yes I can!”

“But…but _why_?” There was genuine hurt on her faceplates. “I’m not so bad, I promise! Whatever I did…we need to resolve this, Red Alert. Please. I don’t want this relationship to be over before it even has a chance to start.”

Red Alert suddenly felt unbalanced, as if his gyros were misaligned. “Relationship? What are you talking about?”

Now Firestar looked confused as well, her pretty faceplates creasing into a frown.

“Okay,” said Firestar very slowly. “I think…I think we need to start over. From the beginning. Because I think we’re having two different conversations here and that’s not…that’s not going to get us anywhere.”

Red Alert glanced around and realized that, over the course of the conversation, he had pushed himself into a corner. It was a bad habit of his, and often blocked him from his own means of escape. Red Alert slumped to the floor in despair. 

To his surprise, Firestar followed his example, crouching down to his level. She didn’t draw any nearer, though. Perhaps Inferno had told her more about him than he’d previously believed. 

Firestar seemed to be waiting for something, so Red Alert cast around for something to say.

“He thought you were dead,” proclaimed Red Alert after few long moments had passed. “If he didn’t, he would never—”

“I know that,” interrupted Firestar. “And I’m not angry at either of you. In fact, I’m glad he didn’t have to spend all that time alone.”

“But now you want him back.”

“Red Alert,” Firestar lowered her helm to look him in the optics, “did someone tell you that I don’t want you with Inferno?”

Red Alert fixed his gaze on the wall. “Not directly. But…”

“But what?”

“I hear things,” whispered Red Alert. “Mechs gossip.”

Firestar gave a soft sigh. “Red Alert, I have no intention of forcing you and Inferno apart. Ever.”

Red Alert looked up at her. “Not even after the war?”

“Especially not after the war.” Firestar shifted on her knees and shuffled a little bit closer. “You have no idea how much Inferno loves you, do you?”

There seemed to be no correct answer to that. 

“He was so frightened when he learned you had been captured. Elita wanted to wait for orders from Prime, but Inferno told me that you were…delicate. That you couldn’t spend any more time with the Decepticons than you already had. That’s why I went in and brought you back alone. There is enough love in him for both of us, I know there is.” Firestar leaned forward on her servos. “After the war…we could forge an incomplete three-way bond. So even if you never…if you never love me…you can still have him. Could you live with that?”

Red Alert nodded silently. 

“Good.” Most of the stress had gone from her energy field now, but it had been replaced by something else, something like…longing? “I want you to trust me. I know Inferno protects you—I can protect you, too.” Firestar’s vents gave a quiet little sigh. “I think I already understand why he loves you.”

“What?” whispered Red Alert. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable? I want you to tell me if I am.” Firestar seemed completely serious, too. Sometimes, after learning about his glitch, mechs told Red Alert that they wanted to know when they were making him nervous…only to become offended when Red Alert did exactly that. But something about the way Firestar said it sounded genuine. 

“You’re not,” Red Alert mumbled, and it was the truth. She was keeping her distance, staying at optic-level on the floor rather than towering over him, and there was no tension in her energy field to suggest she might be about to attack. Or had she been talking about her words, rather than her frame?

“Can I go on, then?” asked Firestar. 

Red Alert gave a hesitant nod, though he wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t some sort of a joke, or very strange recharge flux. At the thought, Red Alert immediately checked his chronometer. But it looked normal, not distorted or nonsensical as it would be if he was in recharge—Rung had taught him that a very long time ago, before the war. 

“Ever since Inferno told me about you, I’ve had this idea of us, the three of us, after the war, living a civilian life together. With a place of our own and everything. Inferno and I could go back to working in search and rescue, and you could do security work for whoever you wanted. I know even if the war ended tomorrow, it would take vorns for things to reach the point where it could be like that, but it’s like this picture I can’t get out of my head and I like it.” Firestar tilted her helm at him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” said Red Alert. It had been a very long time since he’d even considered what life would be like after the war, assuming he was around to see it. He looked down at his damaged servos. If the war ended, would he have to share a city with mechs like Vortex?

“Red Alert?” Firestar sounded alarmed. “Are you—are you crying? What’s the matter? Did I—”

“No,” whimpered Red Alert. “It…it wasn’t you. I was just…remembering…” He pulled his servos to his chest and stared down at them. 

“Can I come closer?” asked Firestar. Red Alert nodded, but didn’t look up. Firestar moved slowly towards him until she was pressed against his side. It was nice to have someone large and red and warm beside him. He showed her his servos, and she wrapped one cautious arm around his shoulders. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked. 

Red Alert shook his helm. “Greenlight turned the receptors off. But…I remember…”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Firestar into his helm. She was drawing him closer, but Red Alert didn’t mind. In fact, he _wanted_ her to go on holding him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

“It happened on Earth,” said Red Alert. “You…you came just in time. Shockwave didn’t do anything to me. It was Vortex…” Suddenly he felt icy cold, remembering Vortex’s servos on his legs, on his panel, searching and hungry.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Firestar hesitantly. 

“Others have survived worse,” Red Alert reasoned. “Far worse. I…I have no right to, to think I’m some sort of, of, of…victim.”

“That’s not true!” Firestar squeezed his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter if others have endured worse, that doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t some sort of contest. Okay? What matters right now is you. Nobody else. Just you.”

Red Alert pressed his forehelm into her shoulder. “It’s just…he put his servos on me. Vortex. He told me what he wanted…and I know he would have done it, too, if Soundwave hadn’t stopped him. And sometimes my processor gets…tangled. Sometimes I get caught in scenarios that never even happened, but it feels like they did and I can’t break out of them until they’re over.” Red Alert bit his lower lipplate. “You see? You don’t want me. You think you do now, but you don’t know—you don’t know how I get. I’m…damaged, I…have…problems. I have serious problems.”

“Maybe you have problems,” said Firestar. “But you’re definitely not damaged. And I’m pretty sure I _do_ want you. Inferno’s told me a little bit, and I know it won’t be the easiest thing in the universe, but it won’t be impossible, either.” She pressed a little kiss to his forehelm. “Just give me a chance, okay?”

She was so warm, and so much like Inferno in so many ways. Red Alert shifted in her arms so that their spark-plating pressed together and he could hear the thrumming of her engine.

Maybe he’d have to find himself a new nemesis.


End file.
